


you thought you might be a ghost

by rainyhyades



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-13
Updated: 2013-07-13
Packaged: 2017-12-19 08:47:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/881809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rainyhyades/pseuds/rainyhyades
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He thinks she doesn't notice.</p>
            </blockquote>





	you thought you might be a ghost

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first proper DW fan fic, so excuse me if it sucks, haha. This takes place just after Hide. It's short drabble. The title is taken from 42 by Coldplay.

He thinks she doesn’t notice. 

They’ll be somewhere out there, somewhere in time and space, on a far off planet with a name that has too many vowels and apostrophes to even attempt to pronounce and they’ll be doing their usual thing. You know, running – oh, so, much running – from explosions, enraged kings or bloodthirsty creatures, the usual thing, and he’ll look at her. Just for a moment or two. He’ll look at her like she’s some sort of puzzle, more specifically, like she’s the missing puzzle piece and he doesn’t know what to do with her. 

And there’s this cautious look in his ancient eyes, like she’s something to be wary of, not to be trusted. But there’s always excitement, this underlying joy and bewilderment beneath it all that startles her, like she’s the most complex equation, he cannot wait to solve. It unnerves her, it makes her want to shout and scream and run.  
And he thinks she doesn’t notice but she does. 

She always ignores it, brushes it off, because, well, he’s odd isn’t he?

Odd and brilliant and mad. 

Absolutely mad. 

Clara bats those thoughts away and sighs softly. She’s stood in her bedroom, watching with baited breath as that blue police box slowly materialises in her back garden, the wheezing sound echoing in the early afternoon. Clara grabs her bag and rushes out of her room. She bounds down the stairs and walks out into the garden just as the doors to the police box swing open. Clara glances back at the house, up at the azure summer sky for a few moments before she laughs and eagerly steps into the TARDIS, the doors shutting behind her. 

The Doctor is stood by the console, dressed in that long purple coat, vest and bowtie. On anyone else, that outfit would look ridiculous but on him, she can’t deny that he looks exceptionally handsome. His hands are clasped together and he’s grinning at her as she trudges towards him, a spring in her step. 

“Is there a word for total screaming genius that sounds modest and a tiny bit sexy?” She says, returning his wide grin. 

And his grin falls, his eyebrows furrow as that look steals over his features. That look of caution and bewilderment. He takes a step forward, eyes boring into her, scanning her face, “What did you say?”

“Nothing, just...just that I’m a computer genius,” she says, the weight of his gaze is unnerving her, making her feel unbalanced, “I hacked into MI5, found out some scandalous things about the Royal Family....What? Why do you keep looking at me like that?”

It’s gone, just as she mentions it that look slides off his face and a lazy smile with excited eyes are in its place, “Like what?”

“Like I’m a ghost.”

He shakes his head, chuckling slightly, “You’re not a ghost.”

She folds her arms across her chest and frowns, “You make me feel like I am.”

“You’re not a ghost Clara Oswald,” he says, “Impossible, that’s what you are, you’re the Impossible Girl.”

Her eyes narrow. He says that a lot. The Impossible Girl. Before she can ask what he means, he flashes her a smile and twirls round, his coat fluttering.

“So!” He says as he runs around the console, she feels the ship jolt as he takes them out of her garden and sends them spinning into the vortex. “Where do you want to go, Oswald? There’s a fantastic Martian spa resort in the 43rd Century or, or about tea with Queen Elizabeth II? I’ve been meaning to go but, y’know, stuff keeps getting in the way. Stuff does that. Actually, let’s not bother with tea, let’s go to Barcelona! The planet, not the country.”

He’s rambling; talking at a million miles a minute as he pushes buttons and pulls levers. Clara walks forward and slumps down onto the jump seat. Questions, words, theories are at the tip of her tongue, waiting to be heard but she shoves them aside for a later date because right now, the universe awaits. 

He pauses his ramblings to glance over at her and she just smiles, “Surprise me! Show me the stars, Chin Boy.”


End file.
